A half full plastic bottle of Gatorade. His high school football jersey, number 15, in LSU style and purple, gold colors. A Beetle CD belonging to his brother. An assortment of Camel cigs, some broken, some smooshed.
The flip cell phone with a phone number of a convicted dealer survived the crash. The police saw the digits and rushed to judgement. They carried guns, bullets, weapons of all sorts. None were needed that Tuesday. Patience was in short supply. Same with common sense, compassion, and science. No one carried facts. Rumors were carried by radio waves to cell to phone to brains.
He carried smart ideas in his open mind; peace in his heart. It was his heart that broke in the wreck.
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